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The Negotiator

Category: Fetish
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Despite my best attempts at maintaining a straight face, the corner of my mouth twitched with repressed humor as the “ice maiden’s” discomfort escalated by the hour. Negotiations had just passed the fourteenth hour without a substantial break and she wasn’t about to show less stamina than anyone else, a ridiculous determination in my view, but one which offered a welcome diversion to the incessant posturing by the large egos sitting around the long walnut table.

I had first encountered her several years ago at an international banking conference held in Paris. At that time, she was a young prodigy with one of London’s top investment houses. Both voluptuous and brilliant, she had been a virtual magnet at that conference, pulling men into her by the droves, both young and old. By now, she must have passed her thirtieth birthday, but she was still stunning. Flawless ivory complexion; large emerald eyes showcased by artfully applied mascara; full lips accented in bright red; rich reddish brown hair piled into a loose knot; sleek legs beneath a knee length Kelly green skirt; shapely calves and narrow ankles above spiked heels; nicely shaped hips below a trim waist; and a matching Kelly green jacket over a white satin blouse, that swelled out magnificently over the central cause of her discomfort.

Background bios of the British negotiating team had mentioned the fact that their number two member, Sarah Rhys-Jones, had recently given birth to her first child. Married three years ago to a cabinet minister twenty years her senior, much to the chagrin of the financial community’s male contingent, she had forged a powerful career enhancing alliance through either convenience, love, or both. A seemingly inconsequential footnote had mentioned that this epitome of professional feminism had chosen to breast feed, a bit of research that just might prove an advantage, in negotiations now seemed destined for marathon status.

The child had not been brought across the pond, arrangements for food stockpiling no doubt having taken place. However, whatever careful plans she had made were proving to be not so perfectly calculated after all. I seemed to be the only one aware of the evolving situation, as such details were typically passed over by my colleagues in reading such briefs. Watching her as the hours passed by, it was becoming quite possible that the growing pressure in her impressive bosom could cause a crack in her renowned concentration. Surely she had a method to relieve the pressure, but the brief breaks had not allowed her to escape from the general meeting area and her refusal to leave for an extended period which could put her on a different level than the otherwise all male negotiating teams was conspiring against her.

Another four hours passed, the clock striking two in the morning. Most had removed their jackets, many their ties, but poor Sarah wasn’t about to remove her jacket. A break was called for, and this time someone suggested a full hour to allow for a snack. I pushed aside my notepad, full of more doodling than notes, and announced that I for one was going to catch some air this time. As I moved around the table and past others standing less quickly, Sarah reached out and laid a slim hand lightly on my sleeve.

“Marc, is there someplace I can lay down for a few minutes?” she asked in that cultured throaty voice.

I nodded with a smile, “Of course, do you have a headache? I can conjure up some aspirin as well.”

She smiled back, covering well, “No, I’d just like a chance to think in a more relaxed manner.”

Reaching into my pocket, I took out a set of keys and extracted one. Handing it to Sarah, I explained how to find my office where there was a couch to be found. She thanked me politely and turned back to one of her colleagues as I left the room.

Before heading out of the building for some fresh air, I went through my assistant’s office to a private bathroom. Filling a sink with cold water, I took a few minutes to splash down my face and to brush my teeth. Without thinking, I took the more familiar door out into my own office. As I crossed the thick carpet, an unexpected sound pulled me up short.

As my eyes adjusted to the small amount of light that entered the room from the windows overlooking the Loop and Lake Michigan, an erotic vision came clear. Sarah Rhys-Jones set back into the corner of a couch, her jacket folded neatly on the floor. Her arms were lifted up before her, slim hands wrapped around a large milky white breast standing out nakedly from her unbuttoned blouse and unclasped bra. She was squeezing the plump flesh rhythmically, thumb and forefinger of one hand tugging on a long, fat nipple of reddish hue. Moaning with relief, she was squirting pent up breast milk onto a towel that she’d either brought along or found somewhere.

Good manners and common sense dictated that I remove myself from the room as quietly as I had entered it. A sense of how deeply she had to always win, whatever the cost, with the additional dynamic of such siren like beauty, dictated otherwise.

In a quietly playful voice, I spoke from above her, “There is a more satisfying way to go about that.”

Sarah froze, those entrancing green eyes snapping upwards to make out my shadowy presence, hands still wrapped around a succulent breast. Thawing occurred quickly, and she removed her hands from her breast and pulled her blouse shut.

Before she could find her voice, however, I knelt down before her and asked, “How would you like to have all of this negotiating finished when we go back?”

Quite amazingly, unless you knew her well, Sarah’s eyes switched from stunned embarrassment to sharp calculation. She found her voice, “And what might that take?”

Reaching out to reopen her blouse, I said quite simply, “Allow me to relieve your distress, and I’ll accept your last offer.”

For a long moment I waited, as that fine mind went over the cost/reward equation so unequivocally placed before her. Time ticking by, I almost had a doubt as to my judgment and then she reconfirmed it. Without a word, she reached back up to her naked breast and lifted it up to me.

No doubt she’d quickly decided that allowing her chief protagonist to play with her breast was more than worth winning the negotiation. Perhaps that is all I would have done, for milking a woman’s breast wasn’t anything I’d ever thought of doing before, but then I got a close look at that breast. It was large, and very heavy with milk. Her skin was not merely flawless, but smooth as ivory. The nipple was proportionally large, reddish brown and thick, distending outward an inch and a half from an aureole that was at least four inches across its radius. It was so succulent, so inviting, that I couldn’t help myself. Leaning forward, I opened my mouth and wrapped my lips around that fat nipple.

Sarah was visibly startled with a sharp intake of breath. Her hands let go the breast and moved out to push me away, but I seized her breast with my own hands and sucked deeply. As a fine spray shot into my mouth, Sarah gasped with an unexpected surge of physical pleasure. Her hands fell onto my shoulders, but lightly, as she did not try to push me away.

I cannot say that her milk was overly tasty, but it wasn’t all that hard to drink either. It was intoxicatingly erotic, however, to suck it from her breast. The breast itself was very solid when first I wrapped my hands around it, so full of milk, but as the minutes went by and I sucked it through her long, thick nipple, some suppleness returned to the delightful orb’s flesh. Not that it ever grew too soft, for her breasts were naturally firm despite their size. Sarah Rhys-Jones was indeed one delicious British bird.

As her milk’s flow dried up, I pulled away slowly from her breast. She was looking at me with a strange mixture of surprise and wonder. Without a word, I brushed the right side of her blouse aside to expose her other breast still restrained within her bra. Reaching out, I took hold of the bra cup’s top and pulled it down so that it could collapse beneath the underside of another solid, milk filled tit. Wrapping my hands around it, like a milk filled coconut, I leaned forward and took this new, large nipple into my mouth.

An almost inaudible groan arose in Sarah’s throat as her milk shot forth into my sucking mouth. The physical pleasure must have been something and she shifted slightly on the couch, pushing her breast upwards as if to now encourage my sucking.

Along the way, one of my hands left her breast and dropped gently down atop her thigh. Sarah didn’t react at this, too caught up in the relief draining her breast, and visibly aroused by this feeding, I slid my open palm up her thigh, beneath her skirt and even further. Only when my fingers brushed across the mound beneath her silk panties did Sarah jump. I sucked her nipple extra hard and as a very strong stream of milk was pulled out, she gasped at the feeling. Simultaneously, I slipped a finger under her panties and shoved it up into her pussy.

She was wet, I quickly found out, and my finger slid into her easily. There was a brief moment when she appeared poised to react negatively, but I could feel juices releasing around my finger and with a louder moan, Sarah thrust her belly upwards and her hands wrapped behind my head and pulled my face into the flesh of her breast.

Finger fucking her oh so gently, I sucked her nipple until the very last of her milk dropped to a mere trickle. Then I pulled away from her tit and looked up into her face as my finger continued to move in and out of her pussy. Sarah’s eyes were half closed, but she met my gaze. Her mouth was open partly and she was breathing deeply.

Deliberately, I pulled my hand back out from beneath her skirt and stood up. Without a word said, but our eyes still locked upon each other, I unbuckled and unzipped my pants. Her eyes did drop as my hand pushed down the shorts and let my cock drop out into the open air. It was full and erect, pointing up at a slight angle so that the fat, purplish head pointed directly at her face. Sarah’s pink tongue appeared, running across her lip in an obvious gesture of desire.

Reaching downward, I slid my arms beneath each of her knees and lifted her legs up into the air, causing her to slide forward on the couch. I wrapped her legs around my waist and she locked her heels together obligingly. Slipping a hand between us, I pushed her skirt up over her hips, then reached in and pulled her panties to one side, exposing her swollen cunt lips. Taking my cock with my other hand, I angled it down and touched the swollen tip to her moist cunt’s lips. Sarah started to breathe even harder and she shuddered slightly as I pushed the head of my cock inside of her. Sliding my hands around and under her firm, round ass, I took hold of her buttocks and pulled her pussy up onto my cock. As I watched, the shaft slid into her inch by inch, disappearing as the thick, pink lips of her cunt slid up along the length of my cock. I jerked her forward, driving the last third of my cock inside of her, then looked up at her to see how she was now faring.

Sarah’s face was visibly taken with lust. Her green eyes fairly smoldered as she looked up at me. Holding her eyes with my own, I pulled my cock back out of her and then started to pump it in and out, but slowly, savoring every moment of the fuck.

With her succulent breasts flopping around within her opened blouse, face and neck flushed, Sarah began moving her lower belly up and down, meeting my every penetration of her. Her cunt gripped my shaft tightly and I could feel her inner muscles contracting within. She moaned and panted, swept up into the pure pleasure of our mating bodies.

That cultured, throaty voice lifted up from deep inside, urging, “Oh yes, fuck me you cunning bastard, fuck me good.”

I smiled at her and slammed into her deep and hard, causing her to buck. She had long, perfect nails, which she now dug into my arms as she held onto me. Her hips started to bounce wildly up from the couch and we entered into a more abandoned level. My cock started to pound in and out of her now hot pussy relentlessly, fucking her more than good.

She came first, with a shudder that swept through her entire body. Her pussy pulsed around my cock and she moaned louder. I drove in and out of her ever faster, slapping my balls into her ass. Sarah cried out and came again, much harder, arching her lower back up powerfully and flooding the inside of her pussy with orgasmic juices.

As she started to subside, I let her slide down onto the couch, gently. My cock popped out of her cunt and waved in the air, slick with her juice. I stepped to the side and reaching out, took hold of her head and pulled on it. She stared at my cock, realizing instantly what I wanted.

I explained anyway, “I drank your milk, now its time for you to drink mine.”

Whether she was into oral sex, I didn’t know, but she didn’t put up an argument. Her mouth opened wide and leaning forward, I inserted my cock into it with ease. Well, at least half of it went in. She closed her mouth around it and sucked. I waited, letting her grow used to it. After a short while, I could feel her firm, warm tongue moving around, licking at my shaft.

Our hour was about up, and so was my control. Taking hold of her head with both hands, I pulled back a bit, then pushed back into her mouth. I started to fuck her, moving my cock back and forth, a bit further in with each move, until she had most of its length penetrating her mouth. I could feel the pressure of my own “milk” building up, impossible to contain. With a moan of my own, I suddenly thrust my cock all the way into her mouth and felt the cum bursting forth. Sarah fought a bit and I pulled half of my cock back until she calmed down. I kept shooting cum into her mouth, though, and was thrilled to see that she was swallowing it as quickly as it shot forth, until like her tits, my cock was at last drained.

Ten minutes later, we re-entered the negotiating room. One of my colleagues asked if I’d had anything to eat and I replied that I’d only had something to drink. Sarah took her place on her side of the table, dressed as professionally as ever. As I opened up by agreeing to accept the offer made just prior to our recent break, I could see her smile triumphantly. Paid in full, I certainly wasn’t going to spoil her moment of triumph by telling her that originally we were prepared to accept a higher offer made two hours earlier, but for some reason had held back.

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